“I wanted to talk to you about—you know—the night we went out. I know I was weird, and I know I should have called you before now, and I’m really sorry. I could explain right now, but—but I was hoping to talk to you in person. Are you coming home soon?”
“Yeah,” she said tentatively, “we’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“Could I come see you?”
I didn’t even think before I asked; I felt such a rush to see her that the question just poured out of me.
Lydia sounded breathless. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great,” I said, my voice steadier now. “And hey, um … I’m having some people over on Saturday night. Will you come?”
“Okay. Maybe.”
“Great. Okay. Um, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun in Michigan. I hope you get to play Manhunt with everyone, and I hope you win.”
There was a hint of a smile in her voice now. “Thanks, Codi. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Lydia.”
We hung up, and I looked out over the green yards, and I knew with a bone-deep conviction how tomorrow night was going to go.
* * *
Friday was full of sweet anticipation. I drove along the river with Ricky by my side, listening to one of his early 2000s playlists and finalizing our plans for Saturday night. This party felt like the culmination of everything I wanted to become that summer: a newer, braver, more alive person. The kind of girl who could throw a party where people would shotgun beers and invent new drinking games and make out with someone in the laundry room. I felt grown-up like never before.
There was only one thing missing.
“I was thinking,” Ricky said as I pulled up to the riverbank, “maybe you should invite Maritza and JaKory tomorrow night.”
It was like he’d read my mind. I parked and took the key out of the ignition, looking over at him.
“It’s your house. Your party,” Ricky went on. “They’re your best friends.”
“I know, but I don’t know how I’d explain any of this,” I said, gesturing between us. “They’d be pissed at me.”
Ricky took a deep breath and looked out over the water. “That’s why I thought I should talk to you. Maybe you should … should tell them the truth. Right back to the beginning. This all started with me, so you should tell them about me. Tell them how you walked up on me kissing Tucker that night, and how I begged you not to tell anyone—”
“You didn’t beg me—”
“I asked you, though. And I’m the one who brought you to Taco Mac and introduced you to Lydia. How were you supposed to explain that to Maritza and JaKory if you couldn’t actually explain being friends with me? It’s my fault, and I feel like I should own it. You should tell them.”
I shook my head, staring at the keys in my hand. “It’s not your fault. I could have found a way around it if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep this all for myself.”
“Do you still want to?”
I looked away from him, staring out over the river. “No. I want to be honest with them.”
Ricky’s tone was soft. “You miss them.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“And they’ve got to be missing you, too. I know I did, and I’ve only known you a couple of months.”
I looked down at my phone. I imagined calling Maritza, conferencing JaKory in, and confessing everything about the last two months. The silence that would follow. The hurt they would feel. The pathetic explanation I would try to give.
I would have to come clean sooner or later, but I wasn’t ready for it yet.
“I just want one more day,” I told Ricky. “I want tomorrow night for Lydia and me, and for you and Tucker, and for all the people who have made this summer so meaningful. And then I’ll tell Maritza and JaKory everything.”
Ricky pulled his lips into his mouth. I could tell he was doubtful, but all he said was “It’s your story, Codi. Tell it however you want to.”
* * *
Lydia’s text came late on Friday evening.
Lydia Kaufman aka Jason Waterfalls: I just got home, did you still want to come over?
Definitely. I’ll be there faster than you can say Jason Waterfalls.
My heart pounded like crazy on the drive over. I felt vaguely like I was in one of those movies Maritza, JaKory, and I had watched a million times, right at the end where the girl gets the girl.